


The Long Walk

by juniperandjawbones



Series: Few Against the Wind [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alienages (Dragon Age), City Elf (Dragon Age) Origin, City Elf Culture and Customs, F/M, Illiteracy, POV Third Person, Pre-Relationship, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 09:42:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperandjawbones/pseuds/juniperandjawbones
Relationships: Alistair/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: Few Against the Wind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549087
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	The Long Walk

“Which way should we go now, Alistair?”

The elf’s question took him by surprise. She’d been staring up at a tall wooden signpost in front of them for a moment, looking from it to the intersecting roads in front of them and then back again.

He gave her a puzzled look.

“Well, you seemed pretty set on going to seek out the mages first,” he replied. “That’s still the plan, I assume?” She nodded, arms crossed beneath her thick woolen traveling cloak to hug herself against the early morning chill. He gestured at the sign. “Then we’ll want to head for Lake Calenhad.”

She nodded again, still studying the weathered wooden boards that spelled out the names of nearby towns and landmarks. “Yes, I know that much.”

He glanced from her to the sign that pointed down the road that would take them to the lake. “Okay…” he said slowly, a note of confusion in his tone. “Well, then we just need to follow that sign.”

She pursed her lips, and he realized he’d seen this expression once before.

_“These treaties… have you looked at them?”_ he’d asked. And she’d drawn her full lips down into a thin line, just like she was doing now.

_“No, not yet,”_ she’d answered. _“I… I haven’t had time.”_

And it dawned on him then, standing there in front of this signpost, watching her struggle to make sense of it, her cheeks burning a vivid pink—not, he understood now, from the cold.

“Ari,” he said, sparing a glance behind them. Morrigan was crouched down a hundred paces away, collecting some herbs she’d spotted growing in the ditch along the road. She didn’t seem to be paying them any heed. The elf turned her head in Alistair’s direction at the sound of her name. He took a breath, hesitating before he asked, “Do you… do you not know how to read?”

She froze for a beat as the flush on her skin deepened, then hastily looked away, her eyes darting around for something to land on that wasn’t his face.

“No,” she told him. “Not really. I can recognize and write my own name, but little else.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, giving a small shrug. One of her hands reached up, absently tugging at a loose tendril that had escaped the thick skein of blonde hair she’d tied off to one side. “I guess I just… didn’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

“Oh, Ari…” he said quietly, his eyes softening still further. If there was one thing he could understand, it was the constant feeling that everyone around him thought he was the least intelligent person in the room. “Of course I don’t think that. How could I possibly?”

She took in his expression, and her mouth twisted into an annoyed frown. “Please don’t give me that look, Alistair. Not _you.”_

“What look?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “There’s no look.”

“Yes, there is. It that same pitying look that shems _always_ give you when they find out you never learned to do this or got to experience that. I don’t need you feeling sorry for me, I’ve gotten by just fine without it. Well, up until now, anyhow.”

He mentally took stock of his own face and tried to adjust it so he didn’t look as sad for her as he truly felt. “How did you find your way around?”

“The signs in the alienage didn’t have writing, just pictures. Want to buy some meat? Look for the sign with a pig. You want the apothecary, look for one with a sprig of elfroot on it. I wasn’t nearly the only one who couldn’t make sense of written words.”

“But surely the elves there still needed to be able to read _some_ things—landlords’ documents and the like?”

Ari gave him a humorless smile. “Ah,” she said, “well, now you’ve discovered one of the many tools the ruling class uses to keep us _knife-ears_ in poverty. If you can’t decipher your tenant’s agreement, you can’t ask annoying questions like, _‘What’s this bit here about how you can raise my fee anytime you please?’_”

Alistair looked appalled. “But that’s terrible! Isn’t there any kind of schooling available at _all?_ To keep yourselves from getting taken advantage of?”

She shook her head. “The few elves who’ve found a way to get an education are going to use it to better their lives, they aren’t going to come back to the alienage to teach for next to nothing. And even if they did, most people are too busy just trying to survive any given day. They wouldn’t have the time or energy for taking lessons, let alone the coin.”

They were quiet for a moment, each contemplating silently. The only sound in the air came from Morrigan’s gentle rustling behind them, still carefully pinching leaves off of the plants in the ditch.

“Do you _want_ to learn how to read?” Alistair asked finally, turning to her. 

She looked up, meeting his deep brown eyes with her own pale gray ones as her lips curved into a smirk. “You mean during all the free time we’re bound to have, in between uniting all of Ferelden to stop an army of darkspawn led by a gigantic dragon with the soul of an evil god?”

He gave her a grin. “Come on, I’m sure there will be _some_ quiet moments.”

“I can think of a long list of things I’d much rather be doing during our quiet moments,” Ari replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief now.

“Is that so?” he asked, raising his brows and feeling his heart give a very firm _thump_ against his ribs. “Such as…?”

“Such as beating you soundly at Wicked Grace.”

“Oh _ho!_” he laughed, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “Well, challenge accepted. We shall see if your skill matches your swagger at the card table as well as it does on the battlefield.” Still smiling, he added, “But I mean it, you know. If you _did_ want to learn…”

Her mouth quirked upward to mirror his. “All right,” she replied, nodding a little. “Sure, if there’s time. Maybe I could even teach you how to cook properly in return.”

“The Chantry should venerate you just for trying,” chuckled Alistair. “Arienne Tabris, Patron Saint of Hopeless Causes.” He paused. “And Stabbing.”

She laughed, and the sound warmed him from within.

“So… which _is_ the one for Lake Calenhad?” she asked, looking back up at the signpost.

“Second from the top,” he said in a hasty whisper, turning to see Morrigan walking toward them. “Act natural, sneaky witch thief approaching.” He raised his voice, nodding appreciatively at the post and pointing down the same road as indicated by the sign for the lake. “Yes, you’re quite right. It’s _that_ direction we want to go. Westward. To the west. A westerly direction.” He turned to Morrigan and gave a small start, as if surprised to see that she had appeared alongside them. “Oh, it’s you! Good to have you back. Finally gathered enough ditchweed to turn me into a salamander in my sleep, have you? _Excellent.”_

Morrigan stopped and looked at them both, her brow arched in suspicion.

“Why are you acting like an imbecile?” she asked Alistair. “I mean to say, even more so than _usual_.” She paused, then went on. “Did you just change the subject right as I walked up? …Hold on a moment, were you two talking about me?”

“We were, actually,” said Ari, turning to look at the mage. “Alistair was just saying that he secretly thinks you’re quite good company, and a snappy dresser, to boot.”

At this, he let out a snort, and Morrigan rolled her golden eyes skyward.

“Hilarious, the pair of you,” she grumbled with a scowl, shoving a handful of purple leaves into a satchel at her hip.

“Are those for a potion or a spell?” Ari asked, eyeing them with curiosity.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?” replied Morrigan, shifting the strap of the bag on her shoulder. “If the two of you are done gawking at that post and making idiotic jokes, I believe we’ve got a Blight to stop.” 

She stalked off down the road.

“I suppose she’s probably right,” said Ari in a begrudging sort of tone.

Alistair frowned. “I hate when that happens.”

Grinning, Ari put two fingers between her lips and blew a sharp whistle. “Come on, Korin,” she called. “You’ve chased enough fieldmice for one day.”

Out of a meadow of tall grass and wildflowers to their right, a huge brown Mabari came bounding toward them, his tongue lolling out of one side of his wrinkly jowls. He took his place between Alistair and Ari, looking happily from one to the other and back again as they made their way down the road toward the lake and whatever fate awaited them there.


End file.
